Secrets of the Past
by Idon'tKnowWhatMyPenNameShouldB
Summary: Sparrow wants to know about Reaver's past, and she's going to get what she wants.
1. Chapter 1

It was still night when Sparrow awoke from a friable sleep. Her bedroom was still dim, and light less. She sat up on the placid bed, which could have given anyone a comfortable rest, but not her. She slowly shifted out of bed, and quietly got out of the bed.

A question had dwelt on her ever since she had met the man, but never could she have the courage to ask it. How would he react to the question? certainly he wouldn't proffer the answer to her. He was a man of many words, but giving was not one of them. But the question was killing her. Obviously, he had a secret, a secret of the past.

()()()()

Sparrow's feet scuffled along the hardwood floors of the mansion. They hardly made a noise. Once she arrived to the staircase, she obverse the downstairs. Thankfully, candles were lighting what would should have been a sullen room. This could only mean he had not cared to go to sleep yet.

She continued her way down the stairs, trying to avoid ones that made a creek or a sound to indicate she was coming down. She had to praise herself one she reached the bottom of the downstairs, not once had she made a noise.

Then, turning to her right, which was the doorway ark.

"Reaver," whispered Sparrow. "Reaver, are you up?"

It was a few silent seconds before she received her respond. "Come in, my dear minx."

She obeyed and walked into the room, where she found him sitting in a luxurious chair, watching the fire flicker.

"My deary, why are you up at this absurd time?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question," she answered, as she sat down on the chair across from his.

He agreed with her on that. Such an odd, unnatural time for anyone to be up.

"I want to know something, Reaver," Sparrow started.

"And what may that be?" he asked, not pay attention to her at all, just gazing upon the fire.

It took Sparrow sometime to find the confidence in herself to ask. "I've read your journal," she finally began, with a heavy sigh. "I do know about Oakvale, but I want to hear the story."

Reaver's eyes shot open slightly after the question, and his eye brows raised high. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied.

"Do not take me as an idiot," snapped Sparrow. "I've read it! I've been too Wraithmarsh! I know it was you, but I want to know why."

"My dear, you are severely amoked if you think that," he said causally, and turning back to the fire.

Sparrow had little patience. Now, Reaver was making it worse by protesting everything. She had come down for an answer, and an answer was what she was going to receive that night.

She looked around the room, and it was then when she turned to her right, that she knew what was going to give her that answer. Sparrow put her hand out for the dragonstomper 48. that layed on the miniature table.

Without a doubt, she marked it towards Reaver. "I thought such a rare gun would be locked away somewhere."

"Ah, then you thought wrong," he remarked. Reaver did not seem to be bothered my a gun, his own gun, to be pointed at him.

"You're not frightened?" asked Sparrow. "When I pull out a gun, most people scream and run."

"If you have not notice my dear Sparrow, I'm unlike those citizens," Reaver smirked. "I have had a gun to my head dreadly many times. You are just one of those many."

She smiled at his charming comment. "What a great thing to bring up before you die."

"Ohhh," he said. "Are you really going to kill me because I won't give you an answer?"

"Hmm, I think…I will," she said happily.

Reaver smiled, and sighed. "Well then, pull the trigger."

"Oh, you aren't going to just tell me?" Sparrow asked. "It will save your life."

"You want a refutation so badly that you will kill a man," he chuckled. "Well, well, well, you've stayed with me for to long. But why don't you release that gun and run along, and don't worry your pretty, little mind on this."

"Tell me about Oakvale!"

"Uh, no."

Sparrow stood up, off the chair, and pointed it towards Reaver's head. "I'll count to three, and if you don't start talking by then, well your never be able to talk."

Her threat made Reaver smile more.

"One…two…," she started to count, "Come on, Reaver, don't be a bastard about this."

"Says the person who put a gun to their friend's head because he won't give her an answer."

"Three," and without a flinch, Sparrow pulled the trigger. But oddly, a bullet did not come. "What the hell!"

"Rare guns sometimes aren't loaded as well," mocked Reaver, the turned to face her.

She huffed with anger and disgust, through the gun toward him, and started walking out the door.

"Wait," he muttered, which made Sparrow stop walking, and turn to face him.

She quickly trotted towards him with inquisitiveness, and sat down.

"I think I shall prehaps share a few particulars in my past, just because you just hideously embarrassed yourself," he said.

"Tell me!" she exclaimed, letting his remark pass. She was acting like a child, waiting for Christmas to come.

"Fine, it all started when I was still, why, yes when I was seventeen…"

()()()()

There layed outside of the vast cities of Albion, was the small village of Oakvale. A tiny, charming, little hamlet. A great place to relax and not worry about the bustle of the rest of the world. Right by the majestic lake, sat the small home of Reaver and his parents. He layed in a deep sleep that early morning, but soon was awoken.

"Reaver!" a feminine voice screeched. "Get your arse down here this minute!"

One of his green eyes merely open from the yelling. "Wh," he mumbled to himself, then turned to the clock on the wall.

_9:00 _it said, way past the natural time for people to get up and start their daily lives. He slowly, with no rush, got out of the rickety bed that was close to falling apart. Reaver sighed heavily to himself, and rubbed his forehead. Another day with that hag!

He finally pulled himself together and pulled on his shirt that was a light red. Next, he shoved on his torn boots, going barefoot would have been more useful. Then he walked to the small, wooden, broken mirror and the sink. Reaver poured some water into it, and relieve himself. After doing so, he spit on his hand and fix his hair with only that. Good enough.

After a solid two minutes, Reaver knew he was going to have to go down those steps, and face his mother. He took each step slowly, and soon reached the bottom. His slow pace continued as he walked into that kitchen.

"Finally!" his mother bursted, as she flung a black strained of hair out of her face. "Don't you know what time it is?"

"Good morning to you to, mother," he said gleefully. "And yes I do, I have a clock in my room."

She gave him an angry frown, but turned back to the stove. There was moment of silence, the only noise was a grandfather clock ticking, and the creak of the floorboards when Reaver walked across the room, and sat down.

"So, I'm sure you remember what you have to do today," his mother scowled.

"Ahh, no," mumbled Reaver. "What do I have to do today?"

She slammed the spoon she had in her hand, onto the table. "Reaver, when I say things, it would be a great pleasure if you actually listened."

"Well it would be a great pleasure for you, not me," he pointed out.

She sighed heavily, and continued to glare at her son. "You are going to ask out Cassandra Shultz, and you are not going to complain about it!"

"Who?"

His mother rolled her eyes at him. "The richest girl in Oakvale!" she almost screeched, but then turned around to the oven. "I believe if you can make her fall for you, you two can marry, and your father and I can get out of debt."

"Oh, so this is actually for you," smirked Reaver. "Typical."

"So you don't care that we are close to being out on the streets," she mumbled. "We have no gold."

"I've notice," he interrupted. "And if we do end up being on the streets, ah, I'll make friends with a hobo."

"This is all a big joke to you," his mother mumbled.

Reaver thought for a second. "Kinda."

"Go over to the Shultz's house, right this moment, and ask her out," his mother demanded.

He got up from where he sat, put on his tattered black coat, and opened the door slightly.

"Wait, what if I'm gay and I just don't know it," he joked, "then when I'm about to marry her, I figure it out because I start imagining her father in a hot bath!"

She huffed, ready to slap that grin off of his face. This hint for Reaver to go, and he did just that.

()()()()

Reaver walked to the Shultz's house as slowly as he could go. He was not at all in a joyful mood, particularly because he was being forced to date a girl who he had heard little about and hardly knew.

Word had spread across Oakvale about the rich family. Mainly just about their extreme wealth, and their ten shops in Bowerstone Market.

He finally arrived to the home. Somehow, he sucked it up to go to the front door, and knock on it. Their servant, Pam, answered it. It was a tremendous home, but not that large it need a servant.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"I'm here to see ," he said clearly.

Pam moved to the side to let Reaver in. "Certainly, sir, the lady will be right down."

She shut the heavy oak door behind him, and walked up the stairs. Once fully inside, Reaver took notice of the richness of the home. They had dark oak tables, that had a glass vase on them. It held some sharp coloured red roses. There also were marvelous paintings of a castle, well drawn.

"Ah, if it is not the young master Reaver himself," a voice announced.

Reaver turned around to see Cassandra's father, Samual. "Nice to see you, sir."

Samual waved his hand. "I was hoping to meet up with you one day, and here you are, right in my house."

He nodded.

"Now, come, come," demanded Samual, and walked to the a table that had a flask of the finest wine in it. "You must be thirsty, have some of the most expensive wine ever to be made in Albion."

Reaver obeyed and walked over to him, as Samaul poured the wine into small glasses, that had an elegant pattern on the side of them. He handed one of the glasses to Reaver then took the other one. "A toast."

"Here, here, sir," politely Reaver said.

Both man drank from the glasses. Reaver chugged his, while Samual sipped his. Reaver had never encounter such expensive wine, so he didn't know how to drink it politely.

"So, young, fierce Reaver, why have come to visit?" the man finally asked.

Reaver cleared his throat. "Uh, I was here to see if would be up for a stroll."

"Ah, you see her beauty and enchantment, too."

"Actually, sir, I have never seen her before. My mother believes her and I would be good friends."

Samual chuckled. "More than friends, dear boy. The first time she layed eyes on you she felt those sparks. Not to be offensive, but I see nothing in you. Our families are quite the opposite. You being a poor, dirt boy, and well us, we are splendidly drowning in riches."

"I found nothing offensive in that sentence," lied Reaver and drank a little wine.

"Yes, but maybe you'll achieve something," mumbled Samual. "I cannot have my precious little girl go for some farm boy."

"Yeah, when people tell me I might achieve something, " Reaver began, "I always tell them, don't count on it."

Samual chuckled again, like it was some type of joke, and Reaver didn't want to anger him, so he letted him keep believing it was a joke.

"Ah, but I do like your humor, boy," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Prehaps you can make my daughter satisfied."

"Yup," again, lied Reaver, and then he chugged the rest of his drink.

()()()()

"I do not know what could be taking my sweet so long!" exclaimed Samual, then turned to Reaver, who thought it would be best just sit down and wait. "She must be trying to look her best for you."

"Yeah, it's good one of us makes an effort," Reaver said.

Then, a loud set of footsteps starting coming down the stairs. Even though he knew he should have, Reaver didn't care to get up from where he sat.

That's when a scanty, red head came into the room. She had an extrionary amount of makeup, trying to cover all her flaws. She wore a heavy, dark red lipstick, almost like the colour of blood. And a yellow coloured eye shadow, with a load of mascera. For her hair, it was tied in a tight bun, with a few diamond jewels on it, took make her hair sparkle.

The yellow eye shadow matched with the yellow, laced dress she wore. The collar of the dress had a diamond pattern on it, and the top part had a lace that made an extrionary pattern, as well.

"My dear," started Samual, "what took you this great amount time?"

She ignored her father's question, and nodded towards Reaver. "What is _that_ doing here?"

Reaver smiled at the remark. "This is going to be so fun," he joked to himself.

_Author's notes._

_First Fanfiction story. Do not own Fable, Fable Characters, or Fable settings. Love making a cocky, hilarious Reaver. _


	2. Chapter 2

**C**assandra's brown eyes continued to stare Reaver down. Soon, he got up from where he stood and walked over.

"Young Reaver here has come to ask to court you," Samual explained to his daughter.

"Him?" she said, amazed. "But he is a disgusting farm boy! His family is the poorest in Oakvale!"

"Not actually true," Reaver stopped her, and put his left finger up in the air, "we're _almost_ the poorest."

Cassandra huffed and turned to her father. "Make this…balverine or hobbe, or whatever filthy creature is, get out of our house!"

"Ooh, that stung like a S.T.D." joked Reaver.

She turned back to her father. "Father, I am an adult, and this my house too, so I want him out of my home."

"Cassy, just try to find the best in this," said her father, while he patted her on the head.

She turned back to Reaver and observed him from top to bottom. After a few seconds, she took her white gloves, her white straw hat that had a row of flowers on it, and her umbrella. Without a word, she walked out of the home, expecting Reaver to follow.

Reaver didn't understand this in till her father pointed towards to to leave. He soon caught up with her. "So, Cassy, what."

"What did you call me!" shouted Cassandra.

"Your name," he answered.

"Only my parents get to call me that,!" she hissed. "Not a damn peasant from this horrid place. If you want to call me anything, call miss or madam."

"So, Cassandra," smirked Reaver, "what do you want to do?"

He continued to walk, with the widest grin on his face ever, before he notice she had not been following him.

He stopped walking, and started to turn around, noticing now that she was far behind. With a sigh, he walked towards her. "Is something wrong?"

"You heartless, soulless, filthy, disgusting man!" she screeched. "Don't you know how rude it is to go on a date, and not hold the lady's hand!"

She turned around and started to march away.

"Wait!" cried Reaver, following her behind.

Cassandra turned around to face him.

"My apology, I wasn't thinking clearly," he huffed, then put out his right hand. "Please."

She set her gloved hand into his, and they continued to walk.

()()()()

The walk was dreadful! The two had not the slightest conversation. The only real conversation was when Cassandra would huff or groan because Reaver would walk to fast for her pace.

Soon, the two had reached the lake, and it didn't get any better from there.

"So, Cassandra," began Reaver, as he walked to the marge of the lake, "how long have you been living here?"

"What are you doing!" she screamed, ignoring the question. "I will mar my dress if we go towards the hideous lake!"

"Of course we will," he said to himself. "How do I not know that." He walked back to Cassandra, and put his rough hand back into her's.

As the walk continued, the conversation didn't.

The only words that were said was Cassandra exclaiming that the people in this town were parasites.

"So, were do you partiality to go next?" Reaver asked.

"Home," she answered.

"Well I want that too," he agreed.

"Not that house here," she mumbled. "My home in Bowerstone. Ah, you should see it! It was right next to that grand castle. And I could go visit the parian. So lovely… then it all had to end."

"Yeah, we'll all disappointed you're here, too."

"Your attitude is not attractive," bellowed Cassandra.

"And your's is," he mocked.

Reaver wasn't afraid of Cassandra, or that she had all the money in the world and the biggest fund in Oakvale. All he noticed about her was she was a shrewd person, and narrow-minded, something Reaver did not want at all.

"How wealthy is your family, ?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, are you trying to make conversation?" asked Reaver.

She shook that overgrown head of her's. "I am looking for a man to marry, though you seem hardly flattering, I may just settle. But first, I must know about my match."

He had no clue how to say he was a poor person. Though it seemed like she had already figured that out, even though her intelligent were quite low. But how he could tell her himself, in his own words that he was meager?

"Perchance I'm poor, how would that make you feel?" he asked.

"Do not worry, I know you have no gold," she admitted. "So you come after mine!"

"What?" lied Reaver. "Why would I do such a thing?"

"Don't take me as a fool," she muttered. "Your family is heavy debt, yes? So you want to marry me and get rid of that. Well, , somehow, you're lucky."

"Can I ask how?"

"I do, strangely, find you somewhat…alright. I assume you will want to marry?"

"Ah, I guess," Reaver stumbled.

"Good, I figure you are the best thing I will find in this one horse town," she said, as they continued to walk, arm in arm. "But do understand, one mistake on your part, and I can have you on the streets. Think about another girl, talk with another girl, even look at another girl, I'll have you and that hag of a mother of yours, out on the cold, stone streets!"

They soon arrive to the Shultz's house, and Reaver politely open up the door for her. They were greeted in the house my an elderly woman, four times older then Cassandra and Reaver.

"Cassandra, daughter, is this the man who courted you?" she asked, looking at him, squinting a little.

"Yes, mother, he is Reaver Gray, son of Hershel Gray," answered Cassandra.

The elderly woman put out her hand, excepting Reaver to kiss it, and be a polite gentleman, of course. What that elderly woman did not get was that he was not at all a gentleman.

"He seems hardly a gentleman," the woman said, moving her hand away.

Cassandra looked at him. "Yes, something he shall work on."

His mother shook her head with disbelief and displeasure. And started to walk away, shaking her head slowly. Cassandra followed her mother, leaving Reaver alone in the front.

After a few minutes, Reaver finally decided to just follow the two women. He soon found them in their parlor, sitting on two, red velvet chair, right in front of the fireplace.

"Ah, , sit down and speak of yourself," Cassandra's mother demanded, motioning for him to sit on the seat across from her. "Excuse me for my dismissal at the doorway, I just never dreamed my lovely daughter would be for a…creature of some sort."

Reaver shrugged.

"Also, I never introduced myself. I am thee Victioria Marshell Shultz, a name you recognize?"

He shook his head.

"Of course, you country folk don't care to learn anything," she mumbled, as she drank from her tea. "My father owned many shops in the market. Soon they were passed down to me, after that tragical death of his. I was fifty, and that's when I met Shultz."

Reaver laughed. "You were fifty when you met him! But he's like forty something now!"

Victioria glared at him angrily. "He thought I was lovely for my age."

"Oh, no, no, he just thought your money was lovely," pointed out Reaver.

She sat up from where she sat, then her freeble hands pointed towards the door. "Pleasure meeting you, . The door is that way. And I hope you do change your attitude, or else I will ban you from seeing my daughter."

He jumped up from where he sat and walked towards the door, happy to get out of there.

()()()()

Reaver sat on the Oakvale Bridge, admiring the view. He had not cared to return home, for he knew his mother would be standing in the front, waiting to hear about his date. She would be disappointed if he told her.

But Reaver was sick of this. He hated Cassandra, and her mother. And he hated the thought of him even marrying her. It frightened him to think what she would be like when she seventy something. Could he really deal with that?

He shook his head at the thought of it, and rested his head on the side of the bridge, and rested his eyes. But soon, his eyes re-opened from the sound of a horse neighing, and someone shouting.

And there he spotted a wagon, filled with luggage driving towards Mr. Pucker's home, who lived slightly out of Oakvale. It was just him in his small cabin. Why on earth was a wagon going towards there?

Reaver's curiosity got the better out of him, and he followed the wagon, wondering what was going on.

()()()()

He soon reached the home, and found , the middle-aged man, taking a black luggage bag out of the wagon.

"Ah, Reaver, come to help unpack?" greeted .

"Someone coming to move with you?" Reaver asked, as he followed him to the porch.

put the bag down my the door, and walked back to the carriage to get the other ones. "Nope, actually I'm moving out of Oakvale. I just decided to help the new family move in."

He got out a crate that had glass plates in them, and gave them to Reaver. Then he took two more bags out of the wagon.

"You weren't going to tell anyone?" asked Reaver, as they carried the stuff to the porch.

"Nah, what's the use," he said, as he set the stuff down. "It's always funner when you just disappear in thin air."

Reaver smiled at the man's remark. He couldn't disagree with that. It makes everyone finally turn their attention to you, and you're not there to see it.

"Won't you be back?" he asked.

chuckled a little to himself. "Nope. Gone for good, just like it's suppose to be."

He walked over and open the door, leading into the two story house, made out of logs. Reaver followed him inside.

The floorboards were dusty, like a broom had never touched them. And the furniture was all worn, and rickety. The stove layed on the right side of the doorway entrance, also right by the hat stand. Then way on the right side wall was a ruptured sink, and a large chair right next to it.

Then in the middle of it all was the table, that had sporadic chairs on each sides.

Reaver continued to look around the room with a traumatized look. "Someone's buying this?" he asked.

"Yup, the only home up for sale," explained , as he took a few hats from the bags and set them on the hat stand. "But I'm sure they can possibly turn this home around."

"Yeah, wait, they?" Reaver asked, as he continued to look around. "So it's a family?"

"Sort of. There named the Harrison," he answered. "But they have an adopted daughter, about your age, maybe a year younger. Though she doesn't like to be called a Harrison." He started to walk out of the house to retrieve a few more things. Of course, Reaver followed, wanting to continue to talk.

"Sorry boy, but I'll miss your wedding with Shultz's daughter," apologized.

Reaver sighed heavily. "We were just on one date. Does that sing the word marriage to you."

The middle-aged shook his head at the kid. Then he walked and sat down on one of the chairs that sat on the porch. Reaver sat down, across from him.

"Look, kid, you think you got women all sorted out, right?" he asked.

Reaver shook his head yes.

"Well, the real thing its, you don't," he said out flatly. "Shultz's girl likes you, and to keep that relationship going…well son, you have to become her dog."

"I've been called an animal all my life, that's nothing new to me," joked Reaver.

"And that's what's going to make her leave you, your sense of humor. She's rich, Reaver, and she can't stand humor in less you tease the poor people."

Reaver rested his arm on the arm rest of the chair, and rested his chin on his arm. "Hmm, well see, here's the thing…I hate that strumpet."

"And you're always going to, but now son, your stuck with her for life."

"Great words of wisdom," lied Reaver as he got up from the chair, and started to walk away.

"And soon, you'll go to a desperate measure to get rid of her!" shouted after him.

He stopped walking and turned to see the man. "What do you mean?"

"I can tell you don't want to commit to anything, especially her," explained the man, and he got up from where he sat. "Just remember, getting rid of her, might also get rid of someone else."

Reaver continued to walk away, ignoring the remark. Well trying too. What did he mean by that?

_Author's notes._

_First Fanfiction story. Do not own Fable, Fable Characters, or Fable settings. Love making a cocky, hilarious Reaver. _


	3. Chapter 3

"**A**nd that my dear, is the end of the story," Reaver told Sparrow, as he got up from where he sat.

My her hand reached him before he could fully get up, and slammed him back down on the chair. "That's not the end," she denied.

He sighed heavily with frustration. "My dear, aren't you the slightest bit tired?"

A grin come across her face, as she shook her head no.

She was stubborn, there was no denying that. And even more determined to get this answer, no matter how long she had to wait up that night.

"Ah, all right, there is a little left," lied Reaver. "It was a marvelous, enchanting morning that day, and she was quite a radiant girl, if I am remembering correctly…"

()()()()

It was a brilliant summer morning, that Saturday in Oakvale. The birds had come out, and were singing a tone in the distance. The flowers were now blooming better then ever, and the trees were full of fresh, green leaves.

Reaver started out of his house, before his mother caught up with him. "Going to visit Cassandra I see," she chuckled with amusement. "I told you you would like her."

"Actually, mother," he mumbled. "I was going to check out the new neighbors."

She sighed heavily with displeasure. "Can't you at least bring Cassandra with you."

He stopped walking and turned to face her. "I'm sick of this. I'm the one handling this…not you. If you want gold so frickin bad get a job."

"You listen here," she scowled between her gritted teeth, "I have worked plenty for this family. It's your turn!"

"Me? My turn? Whenever something is mine it's actually for you! You're making me marry a girl for money!" he snarled, and started to storm away.

"Reaver!" cried his mother, which made him turn to face her. "If you don't do this, you're not allowed home."

His face bunched up with anger. She was just poking him, and poking him, never could she stop. That woman made his blood boil, no doubt about it.

()()()()

Reaver and Cassandra walked to the new neighbor's place. Today, she had decided to wear an elegant, loose blue dress, that had show through sleeves. Her hair was put in another tight, horrified bun, which held back by butterfly pins.

"Who are these swines anyway? A bunch of hideous farm folks?" she asked Reaver.

"Um, I have not the slightest clue," he answered. "I only know they have an adopted daughter, around my age."

Cassandra's eyes widened, and snap right towards Reaver. Her glare was not one you could ignore. "Don't say a word to her."

"But that would be rude," he protested. "We don't even know her yet."

"You have no problem being rude to my family or me, so I doubt this will be trouble," she sneered.

He rolled her eyes, but didn't say a word.

Soon they reached the home, where they found a forty year old man, stocky, bald head, searching a wagon. He took out a few piles of sheets and turned around, now noticing he had company. "Oh, welcome," he uttered.

"Morning, sir," said Reaver. "Me and my."

"Girlfriend," interrupted Cassandra, as she put her arm around his.

"Just wanted to meet you and welcome you to…Oakvale," he continued.

The man set the sheets back into the wagon, and walked over, shaking both of their hands. "Pleasure to meet you," the man said. "I am Willard Harrison. I moved here, from Westcliff. It was a pleasant town, but I fear violence was rising everyday. My wife, Suesan, found it best just to leave the place."

"Well, I am Reaver Gray," introduced Reaver. "And here is Shultz. I was born here, however was not."

"Hmm, dating are you two?" asked Willard, eying both of them.

"We are," boasted Cassandra, leaning on Reaver's shoulder, "soon to be married I hope."

Willard smiled at the comment, but Reaver, of course didn't.

There was a break in the conversation. Not one word was spoken, just the sound of birds and cricket's chirping. Reaver looked down at the dusty ground, and circled his foot around, trying to find a way out of this. But then he found a reason to stay.

"Well I hope I can get to meet you folks more," began Willard.

"Willard," a voice said, then appeared a young, blonde girl from the doorway. "Willard, have you seen my…?"

At that moment, their eyes met each other. She walked off the porch and came closer to them, stilling staring at Reaver. "My…my apologises, I did not know we had…uh company," she uttered in her soft voice.

Willard put his old arm around her. "This is my adopted daughter, Summer."

Summer continue to look at Reaver, with a beautiful, pure smile on her face. She didn't know why, but he was incredibly irresistable.

Cassandra, now watching this girl look at him, cleared her throat loudly to get Summer's attention. The girl jumped a little, obviously startled by the noise, then turned towards Cassandra. " , welcome to the land of Oakvale," lied Cassandra, as she put her hand out to shake. "I am thee, Cassandra Shultz."

Summer shook her hand. "Please, I don't like to be consider a Harrison. You can just call me Summer."

"And, this , is my boyfriend, Reaver Gray," she continued, ignoring the remark.

A shock look came to Summer's face as she quickly turned to Reaver. "I'm…I didn't know you two were, a couple," she said, as her smile fated. "That's great…that's excellent."

"Well, not really a couple," denied Reaver. "I find us, more accuinqtience."

The brown colour in Cassandra's eyes almost turned into a fire burning, devilish red. More darker then the lipstick she wore. She sighed with anger at the statement he just said.

Never had she been more offended in her life. "prehaps we shall see each other again, ," she sneered. "But I have high doubts. Goodbye."

"Oh, yeah, it was a pleasure meeting you," Summer said, politely as she could. "I'm sure we'll see each other again."

Cassandra whirled around, and stomped away, but soon found her 'boyfriend' had not cared to followed. She looked over her shoulder to see him still talking to that girl, even making her giggle. Now, Summer was blushing harder around him, and Cassandra was not appreciating it.

"Reaver!" she cried, which made Reaver spun around. "Reaver, can we go? You can always meet with that later."

Reaver turned back to Summer and whispered something. "Like I said, she's lovely."

"Guess you can't stay any longer," she said, then nodded her head towards Cassandra.

"I really do want to, I love seeing her cranky and insecure," he chuckled.

Summer giggled.

"But, she might kill me if I do stay," mumbled Reaver, then turned to Summer. "Sorry, I don't wanna die when I'm seventeen."

Once again, she giggled, but then she said her goodbye and walked back onto the porch. Reaver went in the other direction, following the path that lead to the center of Oakvale. But before he vanished into the forest, he turned back to Summer. "Will I see you around?" he asked.

She smiled. "You can count on it!"

()()()()

Reaver walked Cassandra to her door once they reached it. Not a word was spoken during the walk, that was actually a good thing for him.

Once they reach that big, wide, oak door, Cassandra stopped him. "Do remember what I told you, Reaver," she said. "I don't want you to see her."

"You think your words are going to stop me?" he asked. "Here's the thing, if I want to talk to another girl, if I want to look at another girl, if I want to go up to another girl and smack her arse, I will!"

"Do so, and I will put you out on the streets," she mumbled. "Remember, I have money, and the one with the biggest fund, always wins."

Reaver laughed at the threat. "You don't scare me, Cassandra. I don't need permissive by you."

She open the door, and walked inside. She set her hat on the hat rack, along with her umbrella, and her gloves. Then she turned back to Reaver, who stood at the doorway. "Not underestimate me, Reaver," she scowled. "You see that girl, it won't only hurt you, but it also will hurt her."

She slammed door in his face, which made him even happier. He walked home, whistling a little to himself, and kicking up the dirt while doing so. It was so relaxing just by himself. But he didn't know why, but he kept thinking of Summer. She was a hard girl to get out of his mind.

_Author's notes._

_First Fanfiction story. Do not own Fable, Fable Characters, or Fable settings. Love making a cocky, hilarious Reaver. Sorry about the short chapter. Review if possible. Don't bring up grammar mistakes._


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